No Crossing Here To Passing
It was not as if I’d never been to this city. I knew it intimately. And although I was excluded from its bazaar of languages, I thought myself lucky that its official tongue was one I’d used from my infancy.
But now even this familiar tongue became a puzzle.
<<No Passing Here to Crossing>> What did that mean?
This new prepositional arrangement presented a conundrum.
Long did I stand on street corners observing the traffic, until bit by bit interpretations and ellipses of my new home began to fall in place for me.
© Cynthia James – October 2016
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